The Dreamworld
by phylitr
Summary: Two teenagers are thrown into a version of Middle Earth based off of the movies. Both have read The Lord of the Rings, but neither have seen the movies. Rated for minor swearing just to be safe. No Mary Sues. No slash.
1. Two teens and the Dreamworld

**Disclaimer: LOTR does not belong to me. Hunter's name was inspired by the "Fugitive," "Hunter," "The House of Telcontar" trilogy by Evendim. Thor is the name of a distant cousin of mine.**

**A/N: The h in Thor is silent.**

Two teenagers and the Dreamworld

Hunter Jameson tried not to wince as his thin body smashed into the locker and his books were knocked from his hands. He silently cursed in Russian and prayed that the seniors--both of them on the school football team--would just leave him in peace.

At fifteen years old, Hunter was small for his age, barely 5 foot 7, which made him a perfect target for malicious seniors with too much spare time. Being a genius didn't help.

Even as early as kindergarten he had noticed that he was different. He would sit in the corner and read books while the other boys and girls were learning the alphabet. His teacher had not seemed to care what he did, as long as he didn't cause trouble and proved that he could do what the other kindergarteners were learning. That year he had been lucky. After that, he had been plagued by teachers who believed that he should be subject to their rules about exactly when and what he could learn. Every year, he would walk into the classroom knowing more than half of what would be taught that year, but the teachers would neither give him more advanced work nor let him skip grades. Sitting around in class gave him plenty of time to read, but having to do worksheet upon worksheet of simple things he already understood irked him. If not for his parents' unwavering support of education, Hunter would have quit going to school long ago.

Quickly picking up his book, he made a quick dash for the library, which was only one hundred feet away. Thor had asked him to come so she could read his essay.

It was a strange name, to be sure, even more bizarre than his own name. Thor's real name was Annika Thora Marshall, but she detested her first name and preferred to be called the name of the Norse god of thunder.

They were friends, of a sort. Thor was too wild to be tethered by close relationships, and Hunter was too introverted. But they were both social outcasts, so this made them comrades of a sort.

He entered the library to see Thor sitting at a computer looking up various medieval weapons.

"Hey," he said. She spun around in the swiveling chair. Hunter could never understand why the school had the money to buy swiveling chairs for the library yet was unable to fund a second year calculus class. He passed her his essay. He'd actually written it two years ago, when he had to do a project for language arts. For an entire month in eighth grade, he'd thrown himself into writing a 30-page paper comparing The Lord of the Rings to the epic poem Beowulf, only to be told by his teacher that he needed to pick something less specific. Well, he'd been given an assignment a month ago, and then come down with the flu, so he'd just retrieved this paper off of his computer to save himself the trouble of writing another paper. It wasn't like he really cared about high school.

Thor read the paper quickly and handed it back to him. "Interesting. When did you read Beowulf?"

"A couple years ago. This paper is a recycled one."

"Hmf," was Thor's only reaction. They both used this tactic; it was a way to minimize the homework that they had to do, not to mention silently protest the educational establishment. "Aren't we supposed to be watching the movie in class today?"

"What?" Hunter asked. They had the same language arts class, so they alternated the days that they spent sleeping during class so that one person would always know what homework was assigned. Sleeping during school was a great way to get the rest that they needed, because they didn't have to endure sitting through boring classes and they didn't have to spend their most of their free time at home in bed. "Oh, yeah. I think we're watching the first one." Hunter had no idea why they were watching a movie in school--they weren't studying the book--but he had long since quit questioning the lesson plans. Last Friday they had watched "The Hunchback of Notre Dame" in his math class, even though more than half of the class had flunked the last test. He'd never actually seen any of "The Lord of the Rings" movies, which was odd, considering that he had loved the book when he was younger. Well, there was a first time for everything.

The warning bell for first period rang and the two left the library for the classroom. "Any progress on that program?" Thor asked Hunter. He nodded. He'd been working on a computer program for the last few weeks during school--it wasn't hard. Most kids used laptops to take notes during class, and since he was the top student in almost all of his classes, his teachers really didn't care what he did. Unfortunately, he'd put the wrong battery in last Monday, and so his laptop had run out of battery power long before he'd expected it too, so he hadn't saved his work and had lost a few hundred lines of code, including some math that he'd spent hours on. He'd managed to rewrite that part, but he was still smarting from that incident.

They started arguing about the President's recent changes in foreign policy. The speech had made the headlines that morning, and Thor and Hunter intended to use the time before class to enjoy some intelligent conversation. Standing over by the doorway, both heard the jeers of, "Ooh, Hunter's got a girlfriend," but simply ignored them. Both had dismissed the idea of them dating each other soon after they met. They were simply to different to be compatible in a romantic relationship.

The bell, unfortunately, decided to ring while the two were in the middle of a very heated debate and both reluctantly stopped talking and went to their seats. The usual classroom business was quickly taken care of, though Hunter was asleep by the time that the teacher finished calling role.

"

Thor could barely keep from yawning while she watched the teacher and a few students try to get the television work. She'd been up until four that morning working on an engineering project and she had only managed a few hours of sleep. Exhausted, she folded her jacket to use as a pillow and rested her head on it--she didn't care about the movie and since they weren't doing anything in class that day, she didn't need to stay awake to write down the assignments. Just as the students finally managed to get the TV working, she felt the fog of sleep wrap her into its grasp.

"

Hunter woke up and immediately felt like he was going to be violently ill. This feeling was indeed foresight, since only a few moments after waking, his partially digested breakfast spewed out of his mouth. Digusted he spat and wiped his mouth. He was quite surprised when he saw the vomit and saliva both disappear, enveloped by the white fog that was all around him. He looked around, suddenly afraid.

'It's just a dream, just a dream,' he thought, and pinched himself to wake up. Nothing happened except that his nerve endings sent a message to his brain telling Hunter that he had just pinched himself. Now he was very afraid.

Hearing a noise, he spun around and saw Thor looking around bewildered. "Thor!" he shouted, delighted. Well, if he was going to be stuck in this dream that he couldn't get out of, it was just as well that he had some company. He paused. Dream? Was this just a dream? He didn't want to think about what it might be if it wasn't a dream.

"What the hell just happened?" Thor exlaimed. "Why do you have to be in my dreams?" For some reason, she appeared extremely dismayed, which shocked Hunter.

"What, would you rather have Dalton in your dreams?" Hunter demanded. Tiffany Dalton was the head of the leading clique at their school, and she tried her hardest to make Thor's life miserable.

Thor grimaced. "Well, no..." She looked as if she had eaten something extremely unpleasant.

The reality of it hit Hunter all of a sudden. Like other boys, puberty had grabbed hold of him before his thirteenth birthday, but he'd never dated and romance wasn't high on his list of priorities, so...'Ew,' he thought. A year ago, a few months after they had met, they had vowed that they would never date each other, because both, at that very awkward stage of adolescence, decided that would be too weird. Hunter quickly decided to change the subject.

"Yeah, it's kind of weird. Usually people in my dreams aren't speaking English."

Thor rolled her eyes. "Lucky," she said, envious of Hunter's ability to quickly pick up foreign languages.

"Hey! It's not like I can understand them all the time!" Hunter exclaimed. It was true. Sometimes the people in his dreams were speaking Klingon, which was extremely strange. He loved Star Trek, but there weren't Klingons in every episode, and he couldn't speak the language. Thor simply rolled her eyes, not bothering to answer.

"You know," Thor said, "this is a really weird dream."

"I'm not even sure it's a dream," Hunter told her, casually dropping the bomb.

"Hunter, get a life for once," she shot back. "What else would it be?" Hunter got a distinct feeling that Thor's reaction was caused by fear and denial, rather than irritation.

He shrugged. "I don't know. I puked when I woke up and then it disappeared."

"_What_ disappeared, pray tell?" Thor demanded. Hunter sighed. He had known Thor long enough to know that when she said "pray tell," she was extremely angry and the best option was usually to leave the scene.

"The vomit," he said politely. He was perfectly willing to use the verb "puke," just not the noun. Hunter was a little odd when it came to the English language.

"So? It's just a dream," she told him dismissively.

Hunter gave up at trying to persuade his friend. Bored and anxious, he started walking around. It was felt rather weird to be walking on something that looked like a cloud, yet felt solid. Absentmindedly, he wondered what was happening in his language arts class. Had they gotten to Weathertop yet?

All of a sudden, Hunter noticed that one patch of the cloud wasn't the usual blank white. Rather, it had a bit of a greenish tinge. He wondered if it was just a figment of his imagination. He wanted it to be...but he also wanted it to be real. "Thor, look." He needed to make sure he wasn't just seeing things.

She came over to stare at it with him. "What is that?" she asked, puzzled.

"I haven't a clue." He leaned over to look at it more closely and unconsciously took another step. His foot hit soft ground, beginning to sink...

And he fell.

He didn't seem to fall for a long time, because, almost immediately, he felt the ground slam into him. But when he hit the ground, he fell into darkness. He could voices around him, speaking a language he couldn't understand, and for one moment he thought he could see a light, but that faded as the voices faded, and then there was nothing.

**So, what do you think? All reviews are welcome, but constructive criticism in much appreciated. **

**Do you think Hunter and Thor should have a romantic relationship? There's clearly some attraction between them, but it's a matter of whether that can overcome the obstacles to a relationship.**

**Next chapter: Hunter wakes up and Thor follows him through the hole/portal in the Dreamworld.**

**So, again, note the review button. It's calling to you. Like the Ring, except that reviews are not evil. The more reviews that I get, the faster I'll update.**


	2. Middle Earth

**Disclaimer: LOTR does not belong to me. Thor and Hunter do. For a more detailed disclaimer, go back to Chapter 1.**

Chapter 2

Middle-Earth

"Hunter!" Thor yelled as she saw her friend fall. She dropped to lie by the blue patch, just far enough away to not fall in. She heard nothing. Absolutely nothing. And this made her very afraid. "Hunter!"

She stared at the patch, which betrayed absolutely nothing. It was just there--a spot that looked like a white cloud stained with light blue ink. 'Well, there's no point in staying here,' she thought. And then she made up her mind to follow Hunter into whatever place he had fallen into. They'd stuck together through more than a year of high school, among students who didn't want Hunter and Thor there. Thor was not going to abandon Hunter. She stood up and inched over to the edge of the patch, closed her eyes, and stepped in.

She felt as if she had been trapped in a whirlwind of darkness. Flickers of light edged her consciousness, but they quickly disappeared and the whirling stopped.

"

Hunter awoke to find himself in a rather comfortable bed. He yawned happily--and then groaned as an ear-splitting headache swiftly descended down upon him. He opened his eyes and then wished that he hadn't as the light caused his headache to be even worse. When he finally adjusted to the light and the headache had lessened (slightly), he looked around and found himself to be in a beautiful room.

Sunlight streamed in from all around him and he gasped in delight when he saw how it lit up the intricately carved arches that were the walls. 'This is place is beautiful!' Hunter's amazement was swiftly extinguished when the thought hit him. 'Where the hell am I?' he shouted to himself. 'Am I dead? No, no, that can't be right. What the--what the hell is happening?' He sat up and anxiously look around in the room. No one was there. No one appeared to be close. He breathed a sigh of relief. Now he just had to figure out what had happened before anyone found him.

'Where's Thor?' Now that was a question that needed answering. He prayed that she wasn't in any danger (not that he could have helped her if she had been), but Hunter didn't even know if she was in this...was world the right word? Or was she in...that...the Dreamworld, he decided to call it. He knew now that this was definitely not a dream, but he had fallen asleep, so maybe he'd come here through a dream. Anyway, the Dreamworld had a nice ring to it.

He noticed that he could hear a waterfall in the background. He turned and saw where he was. It was as luxurious as a palace, but he didn't think that was the best word to describe it. It was beautiful, elegant...yet simple.

A voice shocked Hunter out of his reverie. "Ah, you're awake. Finally." He spun around to see a person standing at the foot of his bed. But...he just didn't look normal. He was tall, with pale skin, blond hair, and...were those pointed ears? Then the realization hit him. He was looking at an elf.

Hunter fainted.

"

Erestor was extremely concerned when the boy fainted. He knew that he shouldn't become attached, since the boy could easily turn out to be an enemy. He didn't know where the child was from, but his closest guess was Harad.

But some parts of the puzzle just didn't fit. The boy's was far too dark for him to be from Harad. And he was just a boy, too young to be wandering so far north. He hadn't come on a horse, and then there were his clothes. His boots--well, they were really more like sturdy shoes--were made of something that the elves had never seen before. His clothes were clearly not made for such a long journey, and the boy had not even been wearing a cloak! Nobody had even seen the child before Estel had discovered him lying unconscious in the library.

Well, he could at least hope that the child might have some answers. There was a pitcher of water and a goblet on the table, and Erestor poured some water for the boy. He supposed that he should stop thinking of him as just a boy. He wasn't very tall, but he appeared to be physically mature, more a young man than a child. But Erestor didn't know the boy's name, who was clearly not a man, so he simply thought of him as 'the boy.'

As Erestor gently poured some water into the boy's mouth, the child gave a start and almost spat out the water. "Relax," Erestor told him. "It's just some water." The boy nodded weakly and swallowed. Erestor gave him the goblet and the boy obediently drank. When he finished, he gave it back to the elf. "What's your name?" Erestor asked, hoping that the boy would tell him.

He did. "Hunter. Hunter Jameson."

Erestor nodded. "Hunter, son of James." He noticed a flicker of emotion pass across Hunter's face. He chose to ignore it. Perhaps Hunter had not had a great relationship with his father.

"Where's Thor?" Hunter asked.

Erestor was startled. "Who?"

"My friend. She's a girl, my age, with light brown hair, blue eyes. Do you know where she is?"

Erestor shook his head. "No, I'm afraid not." Hunter appeared rather unhappy to hear this, and also quite worried. The elf smiled, just to see if that would help. If it had any effect, Erestor could not tell. "Stay here and take some rest. Your body needs to recuperate. Do you understand?" Hunter nodded and Erestor left him to sleep.

"

Hunter lay back and tried to relax. So Thor wasn't there. 'Then where the hell is she?' he wanted to scream. She was the only real friend he'd had in high school, and now he was alone. Alone is a world where he didn't belong.

'Where are you, Thor?' he wondered, willing her to respond, even though he knew that was impossible. But Thor wasn't here...whatever here was. Where the hell was he?

'Wait--elves?' Hunter thought. 'So I'm locked in a world of Nordic mythology--before the elves shrunk!' Before there were short little elves to help Santa Claus, Old English and Nordic mythology had elves that were tall, magical, and rather capricious.

'Capricious?' he wondered. 'No, that guy didn't seem like that. Okay, so not strictly mythology.' Then it hit him. 'We were going to watch the Lord of the Rings in class. I fell asleep. I'm in the Lord of the Rings!' He almost wanted to laugh now, though not through joy. Girls in his classes were always daydreaming about going to Middle-Earth and living happily ever after with Frodo, Legolas, or whichever other character they were in love with.

He would have gladly traded places with them. He was in a land that was going to become a war zone, in the midst of people who probably already thought him the enemy, and the last time that he had read the books was more than a year ago! 'Okay, Hunter, calm down. First, Rivendell doesn't get attacked. Mirkwood does...three times, right? Or is that Eregion? Whatever. Not close to here. Second, they've never seen anyone who's actually black. There's the Wild Men and the Haradrim. And the Rohirrim and Aragorn make an alliance with the Wild Men. So that leaves the Haradrim, and they're lighter, aren't they? And they probably speak English---Common, got to remember that--they must speak with accents.' He had to smile at this. Hunter, who loved Shakespeare and was actually part of a Shakespeare theater group, spoke with a slight British accent because of his love for the Bard's work. He hadn't read the books in a long time, but he had been obsessed with them in the seventh grade and practically knew them by heart. So he didn't need to worry.

'So, I'm in Middle-Earth,' he thought. 'Rivendell or Mirkwood?' Rivendell, he decided. From reading The Hobbit, he'd figured that Thranduil's dwelling was more like a castle than Elrond's. 'Hell, this place doesn't even look like it could have dungeons!' he reasoned, thinking of the dungeons that the dwarves had stayed in while in Mirkwood. 'So who was that guy?' Hunter wondered. He quickly thought of all of the elves that he could remember. 'Elrond--maybe. Lindir--probably not. Elladan--yeah, probably not, same for Elrohir. Glorfindel--not a chance in hell. Erestor? Hm...maybe. So Elrond or Erestor,' he concluded. 'Both of whom have names started with the letter e. Or it could have been just some elf who Tolkien doesn't mention. Well, it's not like I really need to know the guy's name. Would be nice, but it's not too important.'

He heard several voices that seemed to be coming from somewhere a few rooms down from him. Wanting to hear what they were saying, he got up (as painful as it was for his sore muscles) and walked over to the door. Now, he could at least hear snatches of conversation. Elves were not very loud, but Hunter had very keen hearing.

"...boy...asleep now...don't think..."

"...very strange..."

"...hasn't woken...Hunter...girl." Hunter almost collapsed. Girl? Was Thor here? 'Wait, he said something about not having woken...he must've been talking about her!'

"...seems fine..."

"Erestor...don't you think..."

He listened for a few more minutes but couldn't hear anything about Thor. Then he heard footsteps coming towards him, so he scrambled to get away from the door and into bed. A few seconds after he flung himself under the covers, he heard an elf come in. Hunter pretended to be asleep, though he didn't know if he was fooling the elf. Finally, the elf left.

Suddenly, a thought occurred to him and he wanted to laugh. 'Hunter, son of James!' He hadn't bothered to tell the elf that his father's name was Elias.

"

Elrond smiled as he left the room. So, his charge had been eavesdropping, had he? That was amusing. Not that he hadn't expected Hunter to do that.

It was a strange name. Hunter, son of James. Hunter...that was unusual...that kind of a name in the Common Tongue. However, it was not too unlike his Estel's alias Strider.

James. He'd never heard that name before, which is very strange, considering how old Elrond was. It sounded vaguely Numenorean, but that was just a guess.

Thor, that was the girl's name, right? Interesting, he'd never heard that one before either.

He'd let Hunter see his friend the next day, and talk to the boy, and that might resolve a few of the mysteries surrounding this situation.

**Next Chapter: Thor wakes up and she and Hunter talk.**

**A/N: I've decided that there will be a romance between Hunter and Thor. But I haven't decided when they'll realize it. I'm thinking about Amon Hen. Maybe later.**

**Now, do you see that purple button? Yes, the review button. I appreciate any and all reviews (yes, flames included), but I prefer constructive criticism and suggestions. More reviews impel me to write faster.**


	3. Hunter and Thor in Rivendell

**Disclaimer: LOTR does not belong to me. I wish it did. I will allow myself to be consoled by the fact that I own Hunter, Thor, and the Dreamworld.**

**A/N: Everyone who reviewed, thank you! I love getting reviews! Sorry, this chapter took longer than usual because of homework and some things I had to do. I will not be posting as often during the week due to school. **

**For anyone who finds my use of italics and single quoatation marks confusing, here are the rules for such usage.**

**Italics: for when Hunter (or any other character) is mentally conversing with his or her alter-self (I don't have a better name for it); or for emphasis in the normal narrative (not something that a character is thinking.) This may be confusing, but if it's the alter-self talking, there's usually a reply or something in the narrative that identifies that it's the alter-self.**

**Single Quotation Marks: for thoughts that aren't part of a self and alter-self conversation.**

**The alter-self may sound like a psychological theory. It's not. It's like the guardian angel and little devil thing, but it's not the same. You're know what I'm talking about after you read this chapter.**

Chapter 3

Thor and Hunter in Rivendell

Hunter lay back and tried to relax. After his initial joy at learning that his friend was also at Rivendell, the thought had occured to him that the elf could have been talking about someone else. He'd felt like he'd been kicked in the chest. 'Look, you don't know who they were talking about. It could be Thor.' _Then, again, it might not be_, a nasty little voice whispered to him. _Shut up_, he told it.

Turning over, he shut his eyes and tried to sleep. There was nothing else that he could do but worry, and he was supposed to be sleeping, and he was sure that it would do him some good, but his frantic mind would not calm down. Not that he wasn't used to this. At home, he would often lie in bed for an hour after he had intended, just because his thoughts were wandering.

But at home it had been normal, just an overactive mind that wasn't ready to sleep. Right now, it was almost a frenzy--worries, trying to figure out what had happened, half-formed plans that kept popping into his mind. It was too much for him to control and it was giving him a headache. "Damn, damn, damn," he muttered. He rolled over and sat up. The elf had left a pitcher of water, so he got up and poured himself a glass, hoping that it might soothe his nerves. It didn't. But, strangely enough, he found himself yawning a few minutes later. 'Did he drug the water?' Hunter wondered. 'Yeah, probably.' Considering that he was going to collapse, it really didn't matter. Hunter lay down and slept.

He awoke the next morning feeling better than he had in ages. At home, he usually stayed up until the early hours of the morning and got four or five hours of sleep. During the weekend he usually slept more, but trying to fit all of the sleep he had missed during the week into two days was neither easy nor healthy. Sometimes Hunter and Thor debated whether or not schools were trying to drive their students insane by making them wake up so early for school. Didn't the morons understand that teens were less alert when school started not because of lack of sleep but because of natural biological factors? No, of course they didn't understand teens. 'And we let these people oversee the education of the next generation, the ones who will be paying their Social Security checks. Mon dieu.'

He sat up and looked around. Like yesterday, no one was there. 'Wonder if anyone's going to come?'

The elf he'd seen earlier chose that moment to wander in. 'Speak of the devil,' Hunter thought. The elf of course did not hear this (of course, he couldn't have, it was a thought), and started speaking. "How did you sleep?"

"Very well, thank you." Etiquette was practically inbred in Hunter. He supposed that it came from his father, who was a businessman and always going off to dinners with important people and thus had to know which fork to use and the most polite way to tell people they had marinara sauce splattered on their chin. It had other uses, though..

"Good," the elf said. "How do you fell?"

"Much better." Hunter paused. 'What is this guy's name?' He decided to ask. "I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name..." he let his voice trail off.

"Erestor," the elf supplied.

'Aha!' Hunter thought. 'So it was him!' Overjoyed by the revelation, he was completely distracted when Erestor spoke again.

"Your friend is here."

Hunter barely heard him. "I'm sorry, I missed that. Could you repeat what you said?"

Erestor smiled. "Your friend is here."

Hunter tried not to collapse. "Thor? How is she? When can I see her?" The questions almost flew out of him mouth, words tripping over each other.

"Physically, she appears to be fine, but she hasn't waken up yet. You can see her when she does."

"But can't I see her now," Hunter protested, completely forgetting his manners. (It wasn't like he cared.) "Please?" He tried not to look absolutely pathetic.

"She's not awake," Erestor pointed out.

"Please?" Hunter insisted.

Erestor gave up on the boy. "You may. Follow me." He rose and Hunter went after him.

"

Hunter entered the room to see Thor laying on her side in bed, breathing quietly. "I'll leave you two here," Erestor said. "Do not disturb her."

"I won't," Hunter said, more out of reflex than out of conscious decision. He'd grown so used to telling adults what they wanted to hear in school that it had almost become a reflex. But Erestor, he had decided, was not like most of his teachers. Most of them just had too many difficult students that they were happy to grant free rein to anyone who was passing the class and spoke politely. Erestor, on the other hand, seemed to actually _care_. Hunter had been surprised by this, but he paid it no mind. 'Hell, he must get paid much more than my teachers. Wait, does he actually have a salary here? Probably not, I don't think Tolkien ever thought about that. But the benefits must be pretty good.'

He sat down by Thor's bedside and slipped his hand around hers. "Hey," he said quietly, knowing that she couldn't hear him. She did, however, murmur in her sleep. "Yeah," Hunter said, not knowing what else to say, "we've landed ourselves in a pretty crummy situation." Thor shifted in response.

There was a loud noise and Hunter spun around to see a midget--_A hobbit_, he corrected himself--standing there. To be precise, it was a rather fat hobit. 'Holy crap, it's Sam!' he thought. The Hobbit looked utterly astonished to see him. "Hello," Hunter said, as Sam looked incapable of speaking. "You're Sam, right?" He knew that this was one thing that he wasn't supposed to know, 'but hell, I can always say someone told me.'

"Yes, sir," the confused hobbit said. He looked like he was going to say something else, but Hunter spoke before he could.

"No, my name's Hunter and you're probably older than I am anyhow. Pleased to make your acquaintence." He paused. "I'm sorry, were you looking for someone?"

Sam could only nod.

"Well, there's only Thor and me here, so you're probably looking for another room," Hunter told the hobbit in an unreasonably cheerful voice. Sam again nodded, said something polite about how much he'd like to spend some time with Hunter later, and fled. 'Aw, shit,' Hunter thought. 'Wouldh've been interesting to talk to him. Oh, what the hell. I should make up a cover story before I go talking to any main characters.' He stopped. _Main characters?_ Where had that come from? 'Nevermind. They are after all main characters, the ones that I know most about. Now only if they were the main players...' His thoughts trailed off because he had already come to the conclusion before he could think it in words. Due to the many times that he had read The Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit as a boy, he knew the main characters quite well. But not so with the major players that Tolkien had written little about. 'Well, I'll just have to hope I never have to deal with Thranduil. He's probably changed after...' he paused to work out the arithmetic 'nearly eighty years. Not long for an elf, but pleny of opportunities for change.'

Thor murmured something in her sleep and Hunter turned to look at her. "When'd you get here? After me, I suppose. Erestor would have had to have been lying. I don't think that's a common elven trait. I hope not. D'you think there are any books here? Probably not. I mean, we're in the hospital wing, aren't we? Both you and I have rooms close to each other and Sam came in trying to find Frodo just a few minutes ago." He stopped now and stared at his friend, who had not moved since Hunter had begun to talk.

Looking around, he noticed that there actually was a book. Several of them, to be exact. He walked over to the table where they were sitting, picked the first one up, and opened it. Unfortunately, it was written in Elvish, not even in the Latin alphabet. Which left the other six books. He glanced at their spines and discovered that one was in English. 'They must have human invalids occasionally,' he thought. He read the title again. Something about the battle in Mordor where Isildur cut the Ring off Sauron's hand. 'Great choice of reading for someone's who sick and probably depressed.' But what the hell, it looked interesting. Vaguely. Interesting enough for someone who's only other option was to sit there and talk to a person who probably wouldn't wake up for hours.

He settled down on the bed by Thor and began to read. Strangely enough, even though it was about people being killed, the words seemed to soothe him. 'Yeah. Definitely an elf who wrote this.' After all, they were the people who wrote songs about people like Gil-galad going off and getting killed. He smiled. Gil-galad was the name of his friend's cat. Well, to be honest, the cat's name was Gil-galad--it was Starlight, but Hunter called him Gil-galad anyways. After all, that was the ancient Elven warrior's name in English. It drove Laurence crazy.

Suddenly a voice startled him. "Hunter?" He nearly jumped at the sound. Hunter could only stare at his friend, who was currently looking up at him from where she lay. "Hunter?"

"Yeah." He didn't know what to say. He'd known he had to say something, for Thor's benefit, and that one little word had slipped out of his mouth.

"What the hell happened?" she asked him. Her voice was steady, but Hunter had known her long enough to know that she wouldh've been screaming that if she hadn't wanted not to. Her voice may have been calm, but the fear and anger told him that she was otherwise.

"I don't know. I woke up a day ago, talked to an Elf--Erestor's his name--"

Thor interrupted him. "Erestor?"

"Yeah. Thor, we're in Middle-Earth." He just sat there, holding his breath, hoping that she wouldn't laugh or call him a liar.

"Middle-Earth?" She said skeptically.

He nodded. "Rivendell, to be exact. Right after Frodo's wounded, I think. Sam came in here a little while ago."

Thor just stared at him.

"It's the truth," Hunter said, distressed. He needed to have at least someone who believed him. Someone to tell him he wasn't going insane. "Please, Thor, you've got to believe me. Would I lie about something like this?"

That was all Thor needed. She shook her head: she knew Hunter far too well for that. The guy was completely inept at pranks--he didn't have the heart for it--and Hunter was not cruel. Never. Blunt, glad to meet out revenge on their oppressors, but never cruel. "No. You wouldn't."

At this moment, another elf decided to walk in. "Hunter, Thor, I am glad to see you both well and awake."

Hunter and Thor simply stared.

"I'm sorry, who are you?" Hunter asked.

The elf only smiled. "Elrond of Rivendell."

**Next chapter: Elrond, Thor, and Hunter talk. That was supposed to be this chapter, but it was too long and I ran out of time. I hate bedtimes.**

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	4. Talking to Elrond Half Elven

**A/N: Sorry that it took so long for me to get this chapter up. I was extremely busy this week.**

**Disclaimer: LOTR does not belong to me. **

Chapter 4

Talking to Elrond Half-Elven

Hunter could only stare. Here he was, sitting across from an Elf-Lord in Middle-Earth on the brink of a major war. An Elf-Lord who probably suspected him and Thor of being spies. His mind was racing: 'to tell him or not to tell him, that is the question.' Yes, that was true. He decided on not telling Elrond that Hunter knew all about Middle-Earth and the War of the Ring. 'Yeah, pretend to be clueless.'

"Rivendell? This is America, right?" He asked.

Elrond looked at him as if Hunter were insane. "America? No, Rivendell is closest to Rhuadar."

Rhuadar. Hunter knew that he had heard that name before, he was just struggling to place it. 'Must be somewhere in Arnor.' He knew that Rivendell was closest to Arnor. He pretended he had no clue what Elrond was talking about. "Rhuadar?" He hoped that Elrond was believing his lies. Hunter and Thor's lives depended on their abilities to deceive.

"

Elrond took pity on the boy, who clearly knew little of history. Of course, if he was from Harad (though his accent clearly indicated some other country), then there was a small chance that he would've studied Arnorian history extensively. Still, it was ridiculous for Hunter to not even understand the basics. "One of the states of Arnor."

Hunter simply stared at him and Elrond quit trying to explain history to him and simply asked the question that had been driving him mad. "Where are you from?"

"

Hunter almost breathed a sigh of relief. Finally, something that he didn't have to lie about but something that would convince Elrond of Hunter's story. "Oregon. Thor and I go to the same school." Elrond simply looked at him. "Oregon's one of the fifty states in America. It's on the western coast, between California and Washington." Hunter made a point of saying as many names as possible, knowing from experience that making up good names was not easy and this could only make him more believable.

"

Elrond quickly ran each name through his head, trying to find something familiar about them. They certainly weren't of Elvish origin, nor were they Dwarvish. Numenorian sounded slightly closer, though Elrond couldn't place any of the roots.

Hunter had said something about Thor and him going to the same school. What exactly did he mean? The only schools Elrond knew of were those for warriors. "School?"

"

Thor decided to answer. "We go to the same high school. Children are required by law to go to school between six and sixteen. They spend the first five years in elementary school, then three in middle school, and four in high school. There's an option of dropping out when you turn sixteen, but most people stay in school."

Elrond looked at her. "You have such short lives and yet every child spends ten years in school? Who pays for it?" Thor tried not to glower at Elrond, remembering that he had grown up with a class system where only the wealthiest children were educated.

"Taxes." She hoped Elrond didn't asked exactly how much taxes were. The idea of such control by government would probably seem abhorrent to a race that loved freedom so much. "It's really quite economical."

Elrond didn't ask about taxes, but instead about school. "How are they set up, these schools?"

"Well, it's organized by geography. There are several neighborhoods to a large city, like Portland, where we live. So there are a few elementary schools for each neighborhood, usually having around five hundred students, so a hundred students per grade--year, that is. That's four or five classrooms, depending on class size. Then there's usually one middle school for a neighborhood, with around eight hundred students. Large neighborhoods have one high school, with around fifteen hundred students." She took a deep breath after finishing this lecture on public education in America.

"

Elrond was shocked, even though his impassive Elven features showed no emotions. These Americans tried to educate everyone in the country by putting them into huge classrooms. In his opinion, that was just asking for a disaster. Only the children of the wealthy were intelligent enough for education. Trying to school the lower echelons of society was a waste of money. It did not take ten years of school teach a peasant child how to farm. However, Thor seemed to think it was normal.

"Why does it take so long?" he asked.

Hunter and Thor seemed to falling over themselves trying to answer him. "Because there's so much to learn."

"There's not enough money."

"Inefficient administration."

"Taxpayers don't care enough to pay more than they have to."

" Because no one care," Hunter said quietly. "The taxpayers don't understand the need for good education and kids hate school."

"Hunter, kids are juvenile goats," Elrond told him. Was this child insane?

"It's a colloquial term for child in our culture," Thor informed him with an icy stare. She was so utterly infuriated by Elrond's condescending tone. She did not reflect on the fact that in the Elvish race, a sixteen-year-old was probably still a baby. At least considered a baby, if more physically developed than that.

"

With Thor's remark, Elrond decided to change the subject. "Have you ever heard of Gondor?" He expected a denial.

"You mean the town in Ethiopia?" Hunter asked. The town, which was actually named Gondar, had been the capital of Ethiopia in the late eighteenth century. (He only knew this because he had looked it up while researching derivatives for names in Middle-Earth.)

Elrond shook his head. "It is a country south of here that battles the evil of Mordor."

"And you don't?" Hunter asked sweetly. He was still irritated at Elrond's treatment of him. He knew that he probably shouldn't try to annoy Elrond, but he just couldn't resist.

"Yes. Though not directly, as Rivendell does not border Mordor." Hunter knew that Elrond was lying. After all, the Elves were the ones who went to the Grey Havens to leave Middle-Earth. Elladan and Elrohir were the only Elves that Hunter knew of that actively worked to kill orcs, and that was only because a party of orcs had taken their mother captive and treated her brutally. Most Elves only cared about orcs when they trespassed on Elven lands.

Hunter pretended not to care about Mordor. "So where's Sam from?" He already knew the answer, of course, but he felt like talking about something other than Mordor. The suspicious glances from Elrond hadn't helped.

"Samwise? He is a hobbit from the Shire." Elrond did not elaborate on the matter and neither of the teens pressed him about it. Both of them already knew about Sam, and probably knew more than Elrond did about the short gardener.

"So, do you have any kids?" Thor asked, pretending to be bored.

Elrond was almost shocked by the question. Why was important? He was growing suspicious: the children had dodged the discussion on Mordor to ask incredibly irrelevant questions. Perhaps they were merely bored. Men were alleged to have short attention-spans, though Elrond had rarely observed this in his foster-son. Of course, Estel was rather unusual. "Children? Elladan and Elrohir are twin boys and Arwen is my only daughter." His shock at the question kept him from speaking in intelligent sentences. He decided that he needed to speak with Glorfindel and Erestor about Hunter and Thor. He'd let Estel fill them in on the history of Middle-Earth. "I am sorry, but I must leave now. If you wish, you may walk in the gardens, though I would advise you to keep to your rooms, since your bodies still need to heal."

Hunter and Thor promptly nodded, having heard nothing of what Elrond had said, or at least, not having cared. Satisfied, Elrond left.

As soon as the Elf-Lord had left, Hunter and Thor began to talk. "Well, what do you think?" Hunter asked.

"I think we scared him off," Thor said. "He'll need a little time to get used to the idea of multiple worlds, but he'll come around eventually."

Hunter nodded. "Yeah. Funny thing is, Tolkien didn't write The Lord of the Rings in English, yet that's what everyone is speaking."

Thor just looked at her friend. "What do you mean he didn't write in English? Tolkien may have been a polyglot, but most people write in their native language."

"Well, he didn't actually write the story in Westron, but all of the names in the English versions of Middle-Earth sagas are translated. He explains in one of the appendices," Hunter said. Judging by Thor's reaction, she thought that Tolkien had been insane, and Hunter had to agree.

"Well, that's stupid. Why think up so many names and then translate them?"

"Hell, I don't know. Tolkien was a little weird. Besides, Thor, your brother woofs at basketball games," Hunter pointed out. Their high school mascot was a German Shepherd and Rupert Marshall, a drummer in the pep band, had a habit of woofing every time their team scored a basket. Thor found it endearing. Hunter continued, "my point is that we can't be in the Lord of the Rings as according to Tolkien. Otherwise we wouldn't be able to understand anyone but each other."

Thor shrugged. Hunter clearly needed to stop trying to solve the situation from a theoretical angle. None of them knew much about what was going on, or how this Middle-Earth was different from Tolkien's Middle-Earth, and here he was trying to dissect the situation with theory! She rolled her eyes and said, "Hunter, let's just wait and figure out what's going on before making any complicated theories involving physics, because I know that's what you're going to do."

Hunter blinked. He had been going to say something about a theory, but how had Thor known? He hadn't even known what kind of theory he was going to propose! "Wait, what'd you say?"

"You were going to say something about multiverse theory and quantum mechanics," Thor said, with a slight smirk on her face. Oh, how she was enjoying this battle of wits! It was not often that she got Hunter to admit to having been outsmarted, and she intended to savor this victory.

Hunter started at Thor's announcement. Now that he thought about, he had been going to say something along those lines! "How'd you know that was what I was going to say?"

Thor only smiled at him. "Hunter Jameson, I've known you for a year and a half. I know how your mind works."

Hunter was almost outraged that Thor dared to gloat over her victory. "A year and a half is hardly long enough for that," he observed wryly, exposing the flaw in the argument.

Thor saw through his words. "It's long enough when that's a year and a half spent in our high school." It was true, at least for Hunter and Thor. The ostracism and pressure that they had faced from other teens had brought them together. Those shared classes, lunches together, and hours spent on school projects had let them understand each other so well that they could read each other's thoughts half of the time. Considering that both were quite introverted, this was a major accomplishment.

Hunter gave up and allowed Thor her victory. "All right, you win. So I was going to say that." He refused to pout about that: that was just beneath him. Changing the subject, he asked, "so, read any good books lately?" He felt that he had to keep talking, he didn't know why. Maybe talking would reveal some of the answers to the questions that were driving him mad.

Thor just gave him a look that seemed to ask if he was trying to be funny. "Books at home or books here? Either way I really don't see the point: we don't have access to books at home and I haven't read any here."

Hunter shook his head, partly from frustration, partly from amusement. "I'm trying to start a discussion, Thor. Now have you read any good books lately or haven't you?"

"Yeah," she admitted. "Wuthering Heights, Emily Bronte. Have you read it?"

"No. What's it about?" he was surprised that he had not read it. Hunter was extremely bookish and practically spent all of his free time reading, while Thor mixed it up with sports. She was also more outgoing than him.

"An extremely strange man named Heathcliff," she said with a strange look on her face. "It's very interesting." She must have gotten that habit from Hunter, that habit of taking things and examining them as if under a microscope. Of scrutinizing things and dissecting them in such a manner suggesting that the mind was somewhere distant. It was hard to describe, harder to understand, and most people just dismissed it as another of Hunter's odd qualities.

Hunter shrugged. "I'll read it when I find the time."

They wandered outside together and made their way to the gardens, neither of them noticing the three elves and an old man who watched them from afar.

"Those children are a mystery," Gandalf said, musing. "I feel that there is something more to this than what they have said. But what it is I cannot tell."

**Next chapter: Gandalf, Elrond, Erestor, and Glorfindel talk.**

**I am switching to weekly updates now, since that allows me greater flexibility for when I can write.**

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	5. The Discussion of the Sages

**Disclaimer: LOTR does not belong to me.** **I wish I could claim credit for it, but that work of art must be attributed to J. R. R. Tolkien and the adaptation of it to Peter Jackson.**

Chapter 5

The Discussion of the Sages

"What do you mean?" Elrond asked, perplexed. Something along those lines had been lurking in the depths of his mind, though he had not been able to name it.

"This strange occurrence," Gandalf pronounced slowly, "is far too strange to have been caused by Sauron. The power that would be necessary is beyond the Maiar. Possibly beyond the Eldar."

"Then you are saying that this...occurrence, as you call it...was caused by Eru Illuvatar?" Elrond's voice was cynical, though Gandalf thought that he could sense an undertone of fear beneath everything.

"Possibly," Elrond said. There it was again, that cynical, aloof voice trying to hide Elrond's fears.

"Did either of the two give you any explanation?" Erestor asked, his voice polite but showing his concern. Erestor had a very strong parental instinct, and happened to be the residential baby-sitter at Rivendell in addition to being Elrond's head counselor. It was only natural that he would be concerned about Hunter and Thor.

Elrond shook his head. "It appears that neither of them thought much of it, though I did not ask." He began to pace around the small chamber. This seemed to be a habit of Elrond's, Gandalf noted, remembering all of the times that Elrond had dragged the wizard into the library so that Elrond could pace around and lecture Gandalf in that annoyingly aristocratic voice. Not that Gandalf was incapable of tolerating aristocrats. Most of them he found rather irritating, including many of the stewards of Gondor and a few kings of Rohan, but over the years he had learned to deal with them. They were just...so annoying.

Gandalf silently reminded himself that the successes that came from him working with those pig-headed fools were more important than his own displeasure. "This occurrence is too complex to have been caused by Sauron, though I do not doubt that he is somehow involved in the matter. More clues will be revealed to us in time, but for now, our best source of information is the two children." He paused. Wondering how two people had popped out of nowhere was distressing him. Perhaps some pipeweed would soothe him. Unfortunately, he'd have to hide in the gardens if he wanted to smoke. These elves just didn't understand what beneficial effects smoking had. Saruman always maintained that smoking addled the mind, though, as Gandalf had just come back from being tortured by Saruman, he would have maintained that Saruman's mind was already addled and he was in no condition to talk.

Gandalf quit thinking about pipeweed when he suddenly remembered a very pressing issue that was at hand. "What of the Ring? Who has come for the council?"

Elrond stopped pacing and began to rattle off names. "For Men, there are Strider and Faramir. I surmise that Denethor would have rather sent Boromir in his stead, yet with the elder son's death he was forced to send his younger child."

All four paused to think about Boromir's death. The circumstances surrounding it were so very unusual: Boromir, a strong, relatively youthful warrior, had dropped dead while having breakfast with Faramir and the Steward four months ago. Poison had been suspected, though there was no poison know to Middle-Earth that could kill a man so quickly. Nothing unusual had been noticed before he died, in fact, he had seemed to be in perfect health up until the moment he collapsed at the table and immediately died.

Elrond startled the other three out of their reverie when he spoke again. "For the Dwarves, Dwalin, Dori, Nori, Bifur, Bofur, Bombur, and Gloin and his son Gimli have come, though I am not sure that all of them intend to attend the counsel. If they do, we shall certainly have a problem transporting Bombur." Elrond allowed his lips to curve upwards in a small smile. What he had said about Bombur was true: the Dwarf was now so fat that it took six young dwarves to carry him around. Eru only knew where they would find a chair that would support the Dwarf. The monster of a chair that the Dwarf used for dining was much to small for the place that Elrond had chosen for the council. Gandalf had already told him that the little platform overlooking the lake was far too small, but Elrond, who loved that little spot, told Gandalf that if there were too many people, they could all stand. Anything was worth using that location for the council. Gandalf had a strong suspicion that the many years of feasting and drinking at Rivendell had caused Elrond to become slightly unhinged. Not that the Elf's mind had ever been entirely sound.

"What of the Elves?" Gandalf asked. "Surely there must be some to represent other Elven-lands than Rivendell."

"Of course," Elrond smoothly answered. Of course there would be plenty of Elves at the Council! Elrond had written the invitations himself and he, as an Elf, could not let mere mortals determine the fate of Middle-Earth. "Legolas Greenleaf, son of Thranduil, has come from Mirkwood and Galdor and Figwit have come from the Grey Havens." Elrond paused a moment to prepare himself for the trials of dealing with Figwit. The strange name had been given to the Elf-ling by his two parents, who had both been declared insane several decades later. (Elrond had always suspected that Figwit's parents were slightly deranged, though he had never thought that it could be so serious.) Figwit had been raised by Cirdan, though the Elf-lord's good character had apparently had little effect upon the disturbed Elf-ling. Cirdan, completely fed up with his unbalanced and irritating foster-son, had used the summons for the Counsel as an excuse to foist Figwit off on Elrond. He had even sent a note to Elrond stating that Figwit would be staying at Rivendell for the remainder of his life on Middle-Earth.

"There is no one from Lothlorien?" Glorfindel inquired. The Balrog-slayer had just returned to Rivendell after several years roving around the Elven-kingdoms and had not been privy to the planning for the Council.

"No," Elrond said. He was still rather annoyed that his in-laws had refused to send a representative to the Council.

In the valley below, Thor and Hunter were wandering around on the path that wrapped around the lake. Both were silent, feeling that to break the silence that filled valley would be to defile a holy place. 'This is indeed a holy place,' thought Hunter. 'A holy place where nature and beauty reign. To find Jerusalem a holy place, you have to believe in Judaism, Christianity, or Islam. To find this a holy place, you just have to be alive.' He did not consider the fact that orcs would probably not consider Rivendell a holy place. Even if they did, then they would consider it their duty to desecrate the beautiful valley.

Oh, how it easy it would have been for the two of them just to stay on that path, wandering around in awe of the beauty surrounding them. To just stay there and forget all of their troubles, the war that was about to break out, the fact that they were a long way from home with no apparent way of getting back. Right now, this was just what they were doing.

Unfortunately for them, this pure bliss could not last. Spotting an dwarf lumbering down the path, Hunter pulled Thor onto a small path that had clearly not been used in years. "Why'd you do that?" Thor demanded. The Dwarf was much too far off to hear them talking.

"Thor, we don't have a cover story. And we can't just go around Rivendell and not expect people to notice us. You're a girl who's going around wearing jeans when most of the males in Rivendell are wearing dress robes. I don't fit into any ethnic group that they've ever seen and I'm wearing my hair short while Aragorn has his down to his shoulders."

Thor raised an eyebrow. "How would you know how long Aragorn's hair is?"

'Why does she always have to be there to correct me?' he wondered. _What would life be like if she didn't? Someone needs to take care of that attitude of yours. _Hunter reluctantly admitted that the voice was right. He did need Thor there to deal with his conceit. "I don't," he said. "That's just a guess. Most people in the medieval ages wore their hair long: they didn't have a ready supply of barbers." He hoped that Thor would leave the matter at that. They got into far too many arguments over such trivial matters. Not that Hunter disliked these debates--in fact, he enjoyed them--but he and Thor did not have the time to argue about things such as the length of Aragorn's hair when they had no cover story to present to everyone else and they weren't even sure that Elrond believed that they weren't spies for Sauron. "Do you have any idea what year this is in Middle-Earth?"

Thor shrugged. "Probably 3018, if Sam's here. How old did he look?"

Hunter quickly replayed the memory in his mind's eye. "I'm not sure. If he was a human, then probably around thirty. And the first time that he sees Rivendell is when Frodo gets stabbed by the Nazgul, so it can't be before 3018. Considering how Elrond's been acting, Sauron hasn't been destroyed, so it must be around the time of the Council of Elrond. Sam came into your room trying to find Frodo, so he must have just arrived at Rivendell. It would have taken Strider and the other hobbits a few days to get to Rivendell after Glorfindel took Frodo, so a few days after he's stabbed. So we have some time until the Council of Elrond." He paused to take a deep breath. "Thing is, we don't know why we're here."

Thor smiled, remembering all of the times that she and Hunter had debated this question. 'Yes, "Why," is the question. Why are we on Earth? Does not every child ask that question at least once in a lifetime? And some it pesters forever.' She had been one who had been always asking that burning question, even when it threatened to overwhelm her. They'd had such lively debates over it and discussed every theory on it that they could find, until they finally admitted that they didn't know the answer. For two people who were accustomed to succeeding and doing everything perfectly, this was quite humiliating. But it was the truth. "I don't have any idea. The more important question is how we ended up here. Any theories?"

Hunter shrugged. "I don't know. Divine intervention, perhaps?" Thor scoffed at this one, as she knew he would. Thor, after all, was a resolute atheist who maintained that religion was created by fools who were a little too desperate for the answers to life's persistent questions. Hunter always told her that she was completely missing the supernatural angle of life. His parents were Catholics, though Hunter frequently skipped church and would have described himself as a deist, had he been asked. "Transportation between universes in the multiverse?" he asked. It was a wild theory that bases most of its evidence off of science fiction, but it was, after all, an idea, and Thor had asked him for ideas.

Thor rolled her eyes. "Unlikely. Besides, what're the odds that there's a universe exactly the same as the one Tolkien wrote about? This world couldn't have been created by Tolkien, since all he did was write a story. I doubt it's possible for him to have been inspired by this world, since it would have been impossible for him to come in contact with it."

"What about the Dreamworld?" Hunter asked. He was desperate to find an answer to this question, but he reminded himself to be patience. Patience is a virtue, the voice said. The other Hunter disagreed. Not all the time.

"Dreamworld?" Thor asked.

"The place where we were after we fell asleep. Then I fell into a hole and that's how I ended up in Middle-Earth."

"Why do you call it the Dreamworld?" The other, more pressing questions were forgotten for the sake of this minor one. Forgotten for the sake of curiosity, which still gripped this child's mind.

"I don't know. I thought everything was a dream at first, and I needed a name for that place, and 'the Dreamworld' had a nice ring to it."

"Hm," was all that Thor said in response.

Both just stood there for a moment, thinking. Well, to be honest, it was more than a moment: it was more like a few minutes. "What if it was truly a dream?" Thor asked, finally breaking the silence.

"What?" Hunter asked, startled. "If it were a dream, then I would have expected to have woken up by now."

Thor shook her head. "No, I didn't mean it like that. What if this Middle-Earth was created by Tolkien's dream? By his writing The Lord of the Rings?"

Hunter stared at his friend in alarm. "What're you saying? That's there a link between our universe and this one?"

Thor nodded. "I'm not sure of the particulars, but it seems to be the only thing that fits."

"Then why are we here?" Hunter asked. Underlying that question was _and what are we supposed to do here?_

"I don't know. Maybe something went wrong and it pulled us in here as a result. I don't know," she said again. Both remained silent, thinking.

"We should probably go back to our rooms," Hunter said quietly. Thor looked at him in askance but after a moment, nodded. This startled Hunter: usually Thor was always arguing with people, as she resented authority and any and all attacks on her personal freedom. That she would so easily acquiesce disturbed him. It was almost like something had been ripped out of his life now that he could no longer depend on Thor to be so contentious. That had been the one constant in his life after he'd found himself in the Dreamworld and now that constant was gone.

He dared not say anything to her, not that he was afraid of her reaction, but because that was his habit. Internalizing emotions was the way that Hunter dealt with them. His friends often remarked on his ability to remain (at least to appearance) unperturbed during horror movies. The truth was that he took all of the fear and anxiety and simply locked it away someplace in himself where it couldn't affect him.

No longer would he be able to use that tactic to escape from the terror that life would hold for him. He couldn't just lock it away and bury the key. Now it wasn't just some character from a movie that the bad guys wanted to kill, it was him and Thor. Locking the fear inside of himself would get both of them killed. He knew the trials that he would be facing in the upcoming days, and he had no idea how he would deal with them.

Thor's method of dealing with challenge was to simply to go in and start, making up her plans as she went along. She never crammed for tests, instead trusting to experience and natural skill. It worked most of the time, but there were occasions for which it was necessary to plan ahead. Hunter remembered a science project that they'd worked on together where they'd been working on it the night before it was due and Thor had found out that they'd forgotten some essential materials. Her solution had been to do a completely different experiment instead.

Hunter wasn't like Thor. Before he embarked on anything, Hunter had to have a detailed plan and solutions to any kind of problems that he might encounter. Thor would have dealt with those problems as they came up, but Hunter would spend far more time than necessary trying to think of everything that might go wrong before he even started the first step of the undertaking.

He knew that he'd only drive himself insane trying to find all of the problems that might result from this situation, he'd only drive himself mad. Hunter also knew that not even Thor was capable of just jumping into this lake and learning to swim while she was in such great danger of drowning. 'Something between the two,' he mused. Rather than just jumping in or spending days in the shallow end, they'd do something in between, like taking a few lessons before jumping in.

Yes, that was what they would do, he decided as they walked back to their rooms.

**A/N: Right now I'm working on outlining the plot (especially how Boromir's death affects things) and the cosmological model that connects Earth, the Dreamworld, and Middle-Earth. Suggestions are very helpful.**

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